I Am Outcast (Talia Knight book 1)
by Kezzlebezzle
Summary: Conflict is inevitable. It was only a matter of time. People fear what they cannot control. And Talia Knight could not be controlled. Until the Sokovia Accords. Now, forced to stand against those she once loved, what will she choose? Do we compromise? Or do we fight?
1. Chapter 1

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The water rushed past my face, but I feel my stomach tense and strong, full of air. The air passes gently out of my mouth as I glide through thr sea. I must be about fifty feet below sea level. Yet I am free, no pressure like a human would feel. And I've been under for five minutes. Just one of the perks of being a super human.

The Sun casts light on the dusky ocean floor, dancing lights. But the light that I was told I would find is nowhere to be seen. My keen eyes dart around and I am searching my heart. The connection to a stone of such immense power is unmistakable. Damn it! There is nothing. I force myself to stay calm. Calm. Calm will allow clear thoughts. And clear thoughts make for effective action.

It's just that I've been searching for more infinity stones like the Tesseract and the Mind Stone for months. Ever since the Battle of New York. All has come to nothing. But Thor warned me that they were out there. It is not the only apocalyptic threat hanging over my head.

I am jarred from my thoughts by an insistent vibration on my wrist. Since Sokovia, I've always had an I.D. device attached to my wrist. So if the Avengers need me, they can call. My eyes squint. When I read his name, my frustration immediately melts away: Steven Rogers - T, need you back at the base. Somethings happened. Please come as soon as possible.

I smile sadly. Dear Steve. He's like me. Craves the conflict, craves the purpose it brings. And as an inevitable case, conflict always arises. And I must stand when it does.

One powerful kick sends me soaring up towards the surface. It's time for Nightshade to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I respond to all reviews! Thanks for the favourites!**_

 _ **camsam17 - That's very kind of you! Thank you for taking the time to review! You'll see an indication of her abilities in this chapter! Hope you like it!**_

I keep on seeing that scene. In Bucharest. It is apparent to me why I have been called back.

My hands grip the wheel with unfaltering unease as I manoeuvre the car down the road. So many unanswered questions? Who was the ring leader working for? What was the vial of bioweaponry and if it's so dangerous, why was it not so closely guarded? And Wanda . . . she knew the power of the bomb, yet her force field gave out before the bomb had cleared civilian space. Why? And more importantly, what consequences will it bring?

Breathe. Breathe. The car swings into the garage and I halt.

"Destination - Avengers H.Q, reached," the satnav booms over the speakers. Gee great. Never would have guessed from the massive A on the wall.

Wet salty sweat begins to trickle down my face and I raise an eyebrow in confusion. Please not again. Not again. The voices slam into my consciousness like a meat knife, striking into my defences. So many of them! I cannot even pick one out! I can only hear and feel the multitude of unpleasant emotions burdening the hearts of everyone in the building. The unease. The fluctuating confusion and the power of doubt! What have I come back to?!

As if the situation could not possibly get more distressing, I hear a voice that I had hoped never to hear again.

"I can help you . . ." it whispers. I bite my lip so hard that it draws blood. My chest rises and falls rapidly s I draw upon my training. My alternate personality thrives on discord. On self doubt. One slip. One wrong memory and it will take over my body and do goodness knows what. Unless I breathe. 5 in. 5 out. 10 in. 10 out. Breathe.

My voice is still raspy with tension when I answer it. "Go away. I can handle this."

"I can make the voices go away," it breathes again. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I grab the wheel tightly. Feeling the smooth leather and the ridges in the handle. My anchor to what is real. And what is not. The voice inside my head. That never stays silent for long.

"If you would but give me control . . ."

"Go away!" I shout. Both hands come down on the dashboard in my frantic attempt to gain control. I hear the metal creak, and the glass shatter and the electricity hum as my hands drive through three layers of reinforced material like its paper. For a moment, I do nothing. It is silent this time. Truly silent. The other voice is gone. I look down. That wasn't even half the extent of my power. My physical strength . . . what if I had been truly angry? What would I have done? What would I have surrendered?

"Miss Knight."

Oh great. I raise my head and step out of the destroyed vehicle to face Vision. His green body glows as he passes through the garage door.

"Hey Vision," I say sarcastically. "Talia is fine. How's it going?"

He ignores me. But when he does it, it somehow manages to not appear rude. He looks mildly curious. Only mild. That's the greatest degree of emotion he's ever shown as he takes in the massacred car that used to be worth 10 million.

"You are hurt," he notices. He doesn't walk so much as glide over to me and gently takes my arm, rolling it over. I gasp as I see the shard of glass that must be at least a foot long, sticking out of my arm. I was so absorbed that I didn't even notice the pain.

Before Vision can rush me the infirmary (yet another one of his mannerisms that he won't quite acknowledge is very human), I grab the shard and rip it from my arm. The wound immediately closes and a layer of my dark skin forms over the bloodied penetration.

"Ah of course," he says, dropping my arm. "I forgot about your healing factor."

"Indeed, it's fine," I respond.

Awkward silence. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi . . . His strange android eyes watch my every move. I wonder if he knows that's creepy. Washing over the car scene. I could read his mind. But my telepathy is the one ability that I do not dare to use. The margin of risk is too great.

"The Secretary of State is upstairs," he says quietly, breaking the silence. "You have arrived just in time."

I nod my head. "Interesting indeed. Well, I've enjoyed this conversation. Tell Steve I'll be up in five."

"Indeed."

Looking up at the pale ceiling where Vision has ascended, I feel a deep wave of tension leave me. I know he looks human. He talks, for the most part, like one. But he's not one. Like me, how could he be one? He's just another of the growing list of people who think I should be dealt with. Fighting back tears, I head upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The second I enter the room and see that man's face, I can already feel the liquid heat pooling behind my eyes. Ross. General Ross a.k.a the Secretary of State, standing there looking deceitfully respectable in his distinguished uniform. This man hunted Bruce for years. And I do mean years. Ever since the gamma accident. With no call, no reason. Just for a weapon. Whatever he has to say, whatever offer he intends to propose, I already know I'm not going to like it. That man is a wolf in sheep skin.

"Ah," he smiles, calmly looking up to meet my gaze. "Talia, we've been waiting for you."

"Oh there's no need for such formality General," I smile oozing sickly sweet politeness from my voice. "How about Subject 101? That is the name you put to my psychiatric form isn't it?"

I gently squeeze Steve's shoulder and take the seat next to him, watching with satisfaction as the smile falls from General Ross's face. Steve takes my hand and squeezes it softly. I give him a wink and I think I catch the subtle glimpse of a smile.

The other Avengers are seated around the table, Wanda, Nat, Falcon, Vision. Rhodes is standing nervously at the side of the presentation board and Tony sits at the back of the room, massaging his temples and looking sorry for himself. If only these were more favourable circumstances.

"It's ironic Miss Knight," he continues, picking up a document from the desk, "I came here because of you. You . . . and your kind."

He spits out the last word, eyeing Wanda savagely.

"New York!" He booms. The presentation behind him lights up with accompanying images. Hulk leaping from building to building, tons of rubble hitting the streets. The 60 foot Leviathan striking the buildings. Killing hundreds.

I feel Steve take my hand in his and I squeeze back reassuringly. We never get used to it. The disturbance.

"Project Insight's unfortunate termination." The so called Secretary of State continues to announce, his smugness rolling like a sickly stench over the room. My heart saddens as I begin to suspect where he is going. Every eye is fixed on the screen, or watching the ground with shame.

He continues to speak, always accompanying his brief statements with evidence of the destruction that followed. Finally . . .

"Bucharest. Humanitarian workers. Killed in their hundreds. Now they are heroes."

Wanda looks away from the screen, her eyes tormented with a thousand fears, her hands trembling with loss. It's only been a year. To be so alone.

"Ok that's enough," Steve demands. "Why are you here? What's the point of this?"

"You've seen the evidence Captain," General Ross hisses. "Wherever the Avengers go, destruction follows. Now maybe Stark tries to help, does a little chair to work, grants a few college funds . . . but it doesn't change the lives he's lost. The lives all of you will lose. You're unstable. A loose canon."

"With all due respect Mr Secretary," Widow says calmly, "we did our job. We stopped the threat!"

"You stopped the external threat!" Ross shouts. "Humanity is under threat from the Avengers now. If it were up to me, you'd all be in padded cells! But the United Nations have reached a decision. For the good of humanity, I present to you the Sokovia Accords."

He slides a thick book down the table. No one reaches for it. No one needs to. We all know what it is. It's what I was waiting for. The fail safe. Whenever there is a weapon, mankind tries to control it. Like they try to control me.

"The Sokovia Accords . . ." he begins.

"Are an attempt to control the deployment of enhanced beings such as myself," I intercede. "Presumably to be decided by the United Nations Panel."

"Yes," General Ross continues. "A protection for all of us. We struck a deal. You won't be locked up. You won't be caged like animals, you people have done some good, I'm not saying you haven't. But you've done a lot of bad stuff too."

"Ok so here's the thing Mr Secretary," I respond calmly, "New York, a problem caused by Loki's attraction to the Tesseract, a problem caused by the Government authorising S.H.I.E.L.D to begin weapons testing on a dangerous alien artefact. The destruction of Project Insight, a problem caused by the Government which would have actually killed the President . . ."

"Talia . . ." Tony begins to interject, raising his head.

"Wait," I boom. "And Sokovia, a problem caused by Ultron, created by Tony Stark! If we hadn't showed up at all, Ultron would have dropped the vibranium meteor and killed every one of us!"

"What's your point Subject 101?" General Ross hisses menacingly.

"My point is what the heck are you complaining about? You're trying to mark us as the problem that needs to be controlled when as per frickin usual, it's mankind's quest for power!"

"General," Natasha says quietly. "What happens if we don't agree?"

"You were in Russia Black Widow. You know what happens to loose canons."

"We need time to discuss this," Rhodey says, his sombreness clouding his voice. Could he be anymore obvious? Clearly there won't be a discussion. He's made up his mind. He just wants the rest of us to see it.

"48 hours."

Without another word, the so called Secretary of State gathers his materials and leaves. Let the fights begin.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey! Sorry I've been away, I couldn't figure out how to carry on the story but I think I've got it now. Please comment and tell me what you think!_

Sometimes, when I dream, I see the world ending. I see it. I sense it. I feel it. It is hot, and smoky as I rise to the top of the ash heaps, the masses of bodies which lie on the ground. And I realise something. Every single damn time. That as the world of mankind is set on fire, I a, not burning with them. On the contrary. I am causing it. And the heat behind my eyes, my eyes glowing, my body pulsing with the cosmic energy I wield. I should feel horror. I should feel alone, without any hope. But I feel triumph. Like looking at a new project that's been done just right. That is what frightens me. That this vision I see, every night of my life, cannot be only a dream.

Wet tears come away on my palm as I sit up in bed. Yeah I'm not going back to sleep. I don't need to see that again. But I don't want to lie here either. Just sitting and thinking about what choice I should make. Because I know I can't choose.

I get out of my bed. There are no lights on. It's completely dark. But I never needed light to see so I steadily make my way to the kitchen.

The fridge. I take out a bottle of milk and set to my normal night time routine. A little rum. A spoon of honey. A minute in the microwave. Then, just sitting in the cough with the warm husky richness of the liquid on my tongue, lost in thought. It is in that state of hazy peace, that I succumb to sleep.

" _What a pair we look," the woman breathes quietly._

 _"Are you always this talkative?" The man hisses, nudging his head towards the elegant woman at his side. Though he is right. They make quite the pair. Silent, fierce, perceptive. Talia Knight, the beautiful Nightshade, standing tall in long red garments that emphasise her lithe powerful figure. And James Barnes. The Winter Solider. Trying to be look normal, in his elaborate black suit. Trying to look like he's not hurting inside. Though when he is near her, the pain lessens somewhat._

 _"Only when I'm nervous," she whispers in response._

 _The ballroom ripples with excitement and activity. Weapons manufacturers, sports starts, so called philanthropists, every little specimen caught finally under the watchful eye of the media. Yet it is no challenge for two assassins to spot the target. He makes it so easy when everyone flocks to him like moths to a flame._

 _"Calm your nerves Nightshade," the Solider says, something like a smile crossing his face. "The target is incoming. I can see Mr Stark."_

 _And there he is. Tony Stark. The weapons dealer who's rolling in everything. Money. Women. Adoration. It would be so easy to just kill him. But this mission is special. Up until this moment, Mr Stark has been selling weapons to S.H.I.E.L.D. But that is no longer enough. Machine guns, Swiss knives, missiles, nothing holds up to the arc reactor technology. Which Mr Stark had proved . . . unwilling to sell. But Miss Knight is a persuasive woman._

 _Nightshade turns to begin her mission but stops feeling the hand on her arm. She huffs and raises her head to face the Solider._

 _"What is it?" She questions impatiently. "I'm like this far away . . ."_

 _His lips against hers cut her off. If it were but a moment longer, she may have been absorbed. She may have felt the connection between life when it flourishes. But he pulls away after only a second, still holding her chin to watch her defiant gaze one last time. So many questions unanswered._

 _"Your mission is ahead Talia," he insists. "When you've done this, Hydra will set you free. Mine has only just begun."_

 _A quick touch of his mind. My god. The fear flooding through him is unmistakable as she allows her telepathy to touch just the outer layer of his mind. His mission, his sacrifice . . . No!_

 _"No James," she demands, grabbing his arm in return. "No you can't! You'll be killed!"_

 _"We always knew that's how my story would end," James says. "But trust me, Talia, I wouldn't do this if I felt I had a choice . . . I love you."_

 _"James please don't do this!" She whispers, tears beginning to fall. There's nothing. She's only just built some semblance of life. Some feeling, felt a connection to someone fighting darkness. What does she have without him? Nothing. Back to square one._

 _"Thank you for sharing your heart with me," he says. He kisses her one last time, at last releasing her chin, painful though it is. "Goodbye my love."_

 _How can one man be gone so quickly? She's a class five mutant, a trained hunter, but he's gone. Without a trace. She can't sense him, even with her telepathy. He's gone. But one thing he has left, this ache inside. This sorrow that cannot be suppressed. Like a black hole in her heart. Talia Knight is always alone. Somehow . . ._

I jolt awake. My cheeks are wet and I lift my palm to smear the tears off my cheek. Of all my dreams, I treasure that one the most. Often I ask to slip back into it. To see James again, to make him feel my agony. To make him see, even if only in a dream, how much I need him.

That was 10 years ago. A long time. But time does not erase memories. Nor does it erase the bond we've shared. I felt many things from the Winter Solider. Mostly discomfort, suppressed through months of cryogenic sleep. I feel loss, emptiness, though I dare not believe that it is me that causes it. But now, I feel something new. A premonition? Or a problem?

Yet this new sensation is most unpleasant. There can only be one cause. James Barnes is in serious danger.


	5. Chapter 5

What a wonderful thing is a heartbeat. I can feel it now. As my arms are wrapped around Steve's waste, just waiting for my business flight to arrive. The heartbeat. In the height of my despair, when I was separated from my humanity, I thought something dark. That we were just systems. Just tissue, blood and organs. And you could shut down a system.

But now, about to embark somewhere where I don't know what will happen, holding Steve, my dearest friend close to me like we won't see each other, again, I begin to feel something. We're not just systems. Humanity are not just systems. They're rich with life. They're aware . . . aware of everything, from the beauty of the rising sun in the morning, to the shame of their own mistakes, of the warmth of the emotions in their chests. They're not just systems. They feel. And that is why I must help them. Why I must help James. Because he is a person who is feeling pain.

"Flight 97, Manhattan to Bucharest, now boarding."

Steve takes my hand from his waist and kisses it, pulling me slightly closer to him. "I don't know what to say to you T."

I laugh and rest my head on his back. "There's nothing to say."

He turns me around to face him, gently grasping my shoulders. "Are you going to sign them?"

I raise a knowing eyebrow, looking my dearest friend. "What do you think?"

"I think you'd have spat it back in their faces if you could."

I touch his cheek gently, running my finger over the scar that is still healing from his recent escapades. "And you are correct Captain. I take responsibility for my actions. I refuse to shift the blame over to anyone else."

"Thank you," he smiles. "Thank you for supporting me in this."

I pick up my light suitcase and turn to face him. "Thanks for driving me all the way up here. Proper gentleman."

"I suppose you still won't tell me where you're going?" He asks hopefully. "I could help you."

"Oh no my dear!" I laugh, taking his hand. "No. You're needed here. My mission only requires me for now. If I need you, I'll call. See you soon."

I kiss him on the cheek. "Don't let your pain harden you Steve," I plead. "Not like me. Peggy loved you. But take it from me, you have to learn to move on."

He doesn't say anything as I brush his cheek one last time, and turn to take my flight. He doesn't need to. He's stubborn. But like me, he will see it soon, by himself.

Twenty six hours later

There is a moment in time where you are running on pure energy. When the mind sets aside the normal trend of thinking and analysing, in favour of instinct. My feet leap and race, my heart barely needing to raise its normal rate. And I am on instinct. Even though I am so much faster than a normal human, it does not help to draw attention. I don't know what James will do if he sees me again.

They are gone. I halt in an alleyway. Listen. To the sounds of life, the bustling of the cars and the laughter of children in the streets. Listen. Listen.

"Talia!"

Damn it. Is it just me or am I getting worse at maintaining a low profile. Only six hours in the city and already several people ahead given me more attention than I deem appropriate.

I turn my head and growl. Her stupid short hair cut in that ridiculous crew style. The way she's like a whole head shorter than me but carries herself as if she's bigger. And judging by a quick scan of Agent 16's mind, she knew I was here. Which means something . . .

"What do you want Raine?" I demand. "I'm busy."

"I'm here to get you to make a very important choice Knight," she responds, casually resting her hand on her Luger pistol. "I know you refused to sign the Sokovia Accords."

"Word does travel fast."

"Indeed," she remarks, curling her lip in barely disguised scorn. "But you are a particular problem."

Two can play this game. I calmly rest my hand on my knife, letting her see my fingers curl around the handle. Oh it would be so easy. No one would ever know. One second and I could lodge this knife anywhere I wanted without stepping an inch.

"And why is that?" I ask.

"Because you're a freak," she glowers. "The others are not so much of a problem. With the exception of the Scarlet Witch, the others are easily contained. But you . . . you, the world can't just forget. You're tipping Omega Level in mutant classification. So I'm giving you one last chance, to sign the Sokovia Accords before things get real nasty, and you start wishing you'd just turned yourself in."

"Ha!" Now that is actually funny. The little mortal is overstepping her bounds. "I made my choice Agent 16. I'm not signing them. Now remove yourself from my path, or I shall move you personally . . ."

I was too focused on the gun. That damn Luger. Just waiting for her to pull it. Suddenly there is a flash of silver flying through the air and then I shriek as burning pain erupts in my abdomen. And I look down to see the six inch knife sticking out of my stomach, stained with my blood.

"I know it won't stop you Nightshade," she muses, taking off her jacket and crackling her knuckles. "But at least it gives me time to do this!"

I taste blood as she elbows me in the face, knocking me to the ground, the knife still lodged deep into my stomach. Gosh the pain. I have made peace with it. The necessity of it. But it still makes it no less pleasant when it inevitably comes knocking.

She's coming in for a second hit when I intervene. Easily seizing her fist as it comes soaring down towards my face. She's strong. I can feel her resistance. But I am stronger. Faster. And even better - it's my job to take people down.

Fear flashes across her face as I rise, still holding her clenched fist, at the same time, pulling the bloodied knife from my stomach. I lick the blood from the blade, the best way to make sure no trace of DNA is left on it and toss it to the ground.

My leg soars through the air like a lightning bolt. The brick where she was standing crumbles as she rolls to the side. Arm movements, reaching for the Luger. Guess hope is lost.

First shot, I see the little metal ball in slow motion, gliding to the side with superhuman poise. Second, I flip into the air to avoid, landing like a feline on my feet. Third? Well, she never got that far. Two finger jab to the radial nerve in the arm. She's still smirking the poor little soul. Like she's won. Like I haven't just ensured she won't be using that arm for a while. I grab the finger clasping the gun, twisting them back as my enemy winces audibly.

"Why are you doing this?" I spit. "You know you can't beat me. You could have come with an army but you came alone. Why?!"

"You don't even remember do you?" She gasps, still staring unbelievingly at her injured hand. "This isn't about the Sokovia Accords Knight! It's about honour, and doing what's right!"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Mission Report 23rd April 2005!" She glowers. The finger is beginning to turn blue and I loosen my grip slightly as the icy cold fills my heart. Mission Report. The 23rd day of the fourth month of 2005. The day I said goodbye to James. The day I tried to complete my mission, get the arc reactor technology, just so Hydra could let me go. And it went so horrendously wrong. Never have I left so many bodies in my wake. I had no choice afterwards, but to erase the memory of Tony Stark. So he wouldn't hunt me down and try to kill me, yet again.

"What do you know about it?" I say, my voice quiet.

"My sister!" She barks, cold tears gathering in her eyes. "You know what you did . . ."

"Emmy . . ."

"Emmy Mae Kyle!" She snaps. She's still crying through the tirade. And my limbs are trembling so much I can barely find the strength to twist harder. I let her wrist go as the weapon clatters to the ground.

"I'm sorry . . ."

"Sorry isn't enough Knight!" She shouts, making me jump. Her nose is running with blood, she won't use her right arm for months, but she's not weeping with the pain. She's shouting tears of anger. And what I did. To save my own skin.

"Do you have any idea what you took from me! My family, my home, any chance of a normal life! You made me into what I am!"

I could make her forget. Her anguish is so clear, so easy to target. One touch from me and she would never remember my name, even my face. A clean slate. But her sister . . . no. I cannot take that. Even with my power, she will always wonder where she went. And my powers will not erase the damage brought on by my failure. Dignity. If nothing else, to keep the memory. So she will always know, whose fault it is, that she was forced into serving Hydra. I screw up. A lot. But I when I kill, I don't forget the faces. And she'll never let me walk out.

"I'm so sorry Raine," I say. "I don't ask your forgiveness. Just for you to understand."

Before she can attack again, I wave my hand across her face and carefully lower her unconscious body to the floor. Taking her phone, I call in medical assistance and dump the phone in a bin on my way out. Just another reminder of what I am. A killer. It's what I do.


	6. Chapter 6

He certainly hasn't lost his touch. I mean damn it, I've been searching all day. I'm good at what I do. Very good. I spoke to people, I tracked phone records, I even resorted to using my telepathy. A particular risk since I can never be sure when I'll tip it too far, leaving my consciousness to the hands of my darker side. And there's not a trace.

I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in destiny or having a path laid out that I don't get to choose. For every action, there is a reaction, there is a consequence. But how did I know then, to come here? To find the man I almost grew to love? I flew a few thousand miles to find him. Was I wrong? Is our bond not as strong as it was? And if it isn't, then I've failed.

A tear rushed down my cheek and I raise my hand to wipe it away. I wanted to badly to see him again. To touch his face and make him certain that he was never alone, that we're both broken in our own way. But that doesn't mean we can't be whole again. Just a youngling's dream. I turn to head back to my hotel, when something catches my eye.

Do I dream? Can I even dare hope? I feel the air catch in my throat as I glimpse his face. One second. Two seconds, three seconds. I'm not dreaming. That is James Barnes. With the pale blue eyes, and the gruff facial expression, standing there in the busy market centre, buying applies like any normal person. Apples.

Ok. Play it cool. Play it cool. I suppress the rush of excitement about to topple my concentration and begin to move. I'm just going to buy some apples. He won't even notice.

I pull my hood down over my head and make my way across the busy street. Apples. Apples. I don't even like apples.

I reach the apple stall and calmly run my fingers over the tight skinned fruit, feigning interest. It's been ten years. And I'm having trouble keeping the emotions from shaking my body. If only he could see me, if only he could know, how close a friend is.

"Oni v sezon?" I question the stall owner calmly. I hope my Russian's good. In the past 10 years, I've been confined to about 6 or 7 languages. Not nearly as many as when I was with Hydra.

Our shoulders brush and an electric surge prickles along my skill. Everything from the waist down is tingling and I find myself all of a sudden hyper sensitive. My God. The energy is unbelievable. And as his spine straightens, he turns his head. My heart is racing. He doesn't directly look at me. But I believe he can feel this electricity pulsing. How could he not? I feel like I'm about to go up in flames.

"Da," the woman at the counter responds, holding up a particularly vibrant red fruit. "Skol'ko vy gotovy platit?"

Perhaps a touch. I continue to prolong my discussion with the stall owner. Keeping the accent tight, the consonants crisp. So as not to arouse suspicion.

Remember me James. Don't break my heart. I push the image of our first and last kiss into his head. I don't try to see inside. He must be in so. I have pain already. But so that he can know. The first moment he showed affection for me, and I reciprocated. He touched my heart that day. In a way that it had never been touched before. And I am begging that whatever he felt, that at least some remnant of it has stood the test of time.

What happens next is unanticipated even by me.

Away from the stalls, away from the public limelight. His massive hands grab my throat, pulling me from the market centre. I could break his grip. Heck I could snap the arm with my thumb and index finger. But I don't.

I wince as he slams me into the wall in an alleyway. I register the pressure being applied to my thorax. But it's not dangerous. No mortal is strong enough to break my skeleton. That's not to say that the lack of recognition doesn't hurt.

"You have exactly ten seconds to tell me who the hell you are before I snap your neck," he growls, his nails pressing into my flesh.

"James," I whisper. Moisture gathers in my eye as I see the despair on his face. Oh James. Why do you look so lost?

He hesitates, but the rage, that driving anger still glints in his eye. If I wasn't so tough, he would kill me. I can feel it.

"How do you know my name?"

"Please . . . please," I say quietly. "Trust me . . ."

I lift my hand. They're cold and dirty but for now, they will do. They will make the connection. I focus all of my energy into this. This is not an opportunity to let the darker me take over. Not an opportunity for destruction. But rather to heal. This is my power. I must wield it well.

I can see him wrestling with the confusion. With the mistrust. But he doesn't stop me. I hold his gaze, confidently, as I touch my palm to his head.

"I'm Talia Evangeline Knight," I say in his head. "And you're James Buchanan Barnes. You know me. I'm your friend."

And then I give it back. What has been taken over decades. The memories. The personality. He cannot be in doubt. He has to know it for sure.

He was assigned to teach me. To show me how it was done. How to kill people. How to not leave a trace. How to hide it from the world. I'd already been taught by Logan, the Hand, so many . . . but nothing like him. We met, we struck a connection before either of us had even spoken. An aura. A fiery determination that could be seen in the glint of the irises.

And every mission, every time he got put in and out of cryo, when he was brainwashed, I was always there. To clean him up and be an anchor. I was consistent. At least. Remember.

"Talia . . ." He breathes, his eyes still wide. "Talia . . ."

"Yes James that's me," I laugh. My humour is mixed with the salt of many tears. I never had a home. I never had an anchor or a family. This man is the closest thing I have ever had to feeling at home. And when he was taken from me, I was lost in space and time for so long. No more.

And then we are touching. Freely. And I can feel his arms pulling me close. And I am pulling him close, hearing his steady heartbeat, smelling the freshness of his hair, relishing every thing about him, from the firmness of the muscles encased around my waist to the softness of the lips pressed in tears to my cheeks and neck. Never forget. If anything happens now, I shall forever be complete. I shall remember this.

As he finally pulls away, he says the words that send a spread of warmth to my heart. What I have waited for.

"I remember."


	7. Chapter 7

His screams could make lions cower. Like seriously. I don't tend to sleep a lot. Never really needed to. And it is evident that even if I did want to sleep, I wouldn't be getting any peace. It's been 34 seconds. A relatively short period of time? Maybe. But oh what agony rings out in those screams.

I'm lying on the couch in his living room and he's in his bedroom. And my keen ears can detect the mattress recoiling every time he strikes down on it in his anguish. Every five seconds a pause. Laboured breathing, choking sobs. And a few names. Nightmares. Now that's why I'm not too fond of sleep.

I get up from the couch and take a deep, relaxing breath. It's second nature to me. Even though as I walk towards the small oak door, his shouts of pain become louder. But soon, if I can do this, he will be silent. I push the door open and approach him.

Oh James. Poor, poor, hurting James. He looks like he's had a shower, such is his skin drenched with sweat and his cheeks run with tears. I used to be like that. Torn by a last which would not let me go, before Charles Xavier taught me why I had to let go.

I don't say a single word. I simply sit on the thin pillow beside him, and gently touch his head. The skin is clammy beneath my hands but somehow, somehow, I know what I must do.

I reach my head down, taking care to keep my hair out of his face and press my lips to his forehead. In the space of a second, his breathing stills and I can hear how his heart is slowing down. Encouraged, I kiss him again.

"Sshhh," I whisper softly, pressing my cheek to his. "It's over now my friend."

"Friend?"

His eyes open slightly, his voice husky with tiredness. "We're stuck in an awkward spot right Talia?"

I turn to get up but his firm arm around my waist prevents me from leaving. "Please don't leave . . ."

"What?" I ask.

"Don't leave me," he repeats, adjusting his grip so it becomes evident I'd have to break his arm to get away. Not that I want to.

"You make the nightmares go away," he says and once again, his fatigue is evident in his voice. Night after night, being tormented by demons of the past. I know that burden. I know the marks it leaves, and the fear it ingrains. If Charles hadn't taught me, I'd still be a victim. Maybe this is why I had to come. To help James Barnes get a foothold in normal life. And that starts with a restful sleep.

"I'll stay," I reassure him.

How to do this? How to do this? Ah sod it. I'm tired. He's tired. And there'll be no hanky panky tonight. I am wiped out.

"Here," I say awkwardly, throwing back his covers and getting into the bed. "Don't you get any ideas!"

A ghost of a smile graces his face at that. "Well . . ."

"No," I smirk. "Keep it in your pants. I'm just here to help you sleep."

"And I appreciate it . . ."

A silence dawns upon us and as I turn to face him, I realise he is holding his arms out to me. I slide into his embrace and allow him to rest his head in my chest. I pull the blanket up and allow the darkness to glide around us, drawing us into rest.

Initially, I can feel the tension in my shoulders, the natural anticipation. But there is no time for that now. I hope, as I always hope, that I can get a happy ending. Maybe with James, maybe with someone far into the future. I just hope my body doesn't react too strongly . . .

"Talia?" He says groggily.

"Yes James?"

"I love you."

I stiffen. So much for calmly drifting off. Feels like my damn body's on fire. Stupid limbic system.


End file.
